Whispers in the Dark
by seeing-is-believing
Summary: One-shot. Hermione can't get out of her habit of staying in the library and reading until late hours. Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy is on the prowl late at night and has some disheartening words for the Gryffindor. Features a bitter Draco and innocent, afraid Hermione. Set in Sixth Year. Compliant with canon.


**So yes, this was supposed to become a full length fic but unfortunately a bad case of writers block prevented that from coming to fruition. I've decided to simply keep the first chapter and make it as an ambiguous one-shot as I find myself quite fond of my writing in this chapter.**

**Thanks to all those who stuck with me but unfortunately I never could finish it…**

* * *

><p>"<em>He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore." <em>

– _**Sigmund Freud**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter one and only…<strong>_

I hurry down the long abandoned school corridor entirely alone. The flickering shadows in the candle lights unnerve me even more than the grotesque thoughts of what lurks around each corner.

Another shudder rips through me and I hug my cloak tighter around my shivering body, hoping to keep some of the warmth in.

Remind me why I decided to stay in the library until such a late hour again?

It's a rather annoying habit that has somehow embedded itself into my subconscious. That combined with my bookish tendencies means that every night I seem to stay in the library until it's closing hour and am then forced to walk the lonely hallways by myself, with only my thoughts to keep me safe.

Of course my wand is tucked firmly in the crevice of my tightly closed palm and I'm holding it so hard that my hand is white and cold with the restricted blood flow. I'm a skilled witch; I know that all too well after years and years of teachers telling me so.

The _'brightest witch of her age'_ or _'Know-It-All'_. Skilled witch or not, ever since Voldemort and his Death Eaters made their unwanted return, and especially with the events of the Department of Mysteries so fresh in my mind, I can't help but think of the terrible things that might happen to me when I'm on my own.

Even Hogwarts, the safest place in the world to me, feels horribly exposed and dangerous.

This new layer of dust that has settled over the Wizarding world is as dark and fatal as the ones that try to destroy it.

The 'wanted' or 'missing person' posters in the Daily Prophet appear to be almost doubling day by day. Whole Wizarding and Muggle families are being wiped out, leaving nothing in their place except the memories others have of them.

Who knows when the names of my parents will be printed in the newspaper with deceased next to them? Who knows when the Weasley family's tragic demise will be the headline? And I say 'when' because 'if' would imply there isn't much of a chance when, really, I know that there is the biggest chance in the world of something like this happening.

Maybe Harry's the lucky one in all this? He doesn't have a family to worry about, and I know how awful that sounds for me to say but it really is true.

Life beyond these walls must be truly awful and I can only wish for it to all stop so this world can return to a semblance of normality.

But that may be easier said than done.

I turn the next corner. Only a few more to go now, I know it. I can feel the pleasant atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room drifting closer towards me; soon I'll be tucked up warm in my bed with Crookshanks wrapped around my ankles, the both of us sleeping sound with any worries we have pushed far away until the next morning.

Tomorrow is Saturday and I cannot wait to spend it with Harry and Ron. Just the three of us. Ginny would usually tag along but she's going with Dean Thomas instead. It doesn't bother me but it most certainly bothers Ron and Harry.

I can't blame them though. Any older brother wants to be protective over his little sister and Harry is upset because he wishes it could be him in place of Dean.

I just hope that one day Harry and Ginny will be happy together and then maybe me and Ron will also… well, I'd like to think that maybe we could be together as a… couple.

_I'd like that very much._

My thoughts are torn away from me as I hear something.

Footsteps. Albeit quiet and slow, but they're behind me.

I gasp and spin around only to come face to face with the empty trail behind me.

There's nothing there... But I could have sworn I heard something...

I shake my head, willing my anxious mind to stop.

_Get a grip, Hermione!_

This is ridiculous. When did I become such a nervous wreck?

I keep on walking. This time it's my own footsteps that echo into the desolation.

But somehow, knowing that doesn't seem to keep me from feeling an almost unbearable sense of vulnerability.

I quicken my pace, feeling my heart pump exuberantly in its cage and my legs quiver like a small child might when they come face to face with the dark.

And then suddenly, as if the thought could be heard, the lights burst into darkness and all I see is black and my wand is ripped out of my grip with a painful pluck.

It hits the floor with a quiet crunch.

_What the-_

An unseen force and figure throws me into the wall and my vision blurs with little white lights as my head spins and becomes lighter.

What's happening?

They press themselves against me, pushing my spine into the sharp wall behind. Their hot breath splays across my cheek, strangely warming and comforting in the chill of the night.

The comfort dissipates when I feel the cold tip of a wand pressed rigid against my throat. I swallow hard; I can't help but try to gulp down my fear.

But it doesn't work because I feel my lips begin to tremble and it soon spreads through my body like a terrible plague that won't go away.

I pull in a deep, shuddering breath.

And the person holding me finally speaks.

"You silly little Mudblood."

That voice… So elegant and refined but it still reeks of as much hatred and hostility for me as when it first spoke to me.

I should have known it was him all along.

_Draco Malfoy._

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, mockingly. "You really shouldn't make a habit of staying in the library till so late at night." The whisper in my ear has a thread of truth running through it. "You can end up in... unwanted situations."

Would that be like the one I'm in _now?_

My fear ebbs and is replaced with red hot anger.

What the _hell_ does he think he's doing?

"Get away from me, Malfoy," I say, seething.

My request is quickly denied. "I think not. Seeing the great Know-It-All Mudblood stripped of her Gryffindor courage is something I've waited a long time for."

How _dare_ he?

Stripped of my Gryffindor courage, am I? We'll see about that.

"You pathetic, arrogant arse! You snatched my wand away from me because you know that I could easily stop you from doing this if I had it. Even in the dark." I really hope that what I'm saying is true.

_It is._

Draco Malfoy has never been anything but a deceitful bully and although my voice is wavering slightly, I'm not scared of him.

Isn't this what cowards do? Take away their opponent's only weapon so that they are defenceless and have to succumb to the fight much weaker than if they had their source of power?

Yes. Because Draco Malfoy _is_ a coward.

"Give me my wand," I snap. "And then we'll see if you'd still be holding me against the wall."

He laughs cruelly. I wasn't expecting that.

His grip tightens on my shoulders and he's squeezing so hard that surely my bones must be breaking?

He leans in closer, but I can't be sure because I still can't see anything.

"You really have no idea, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" I let out.

There's a slight pause but it seems to go on for eons.

"You'll find out soon enough, Mudblood," he says with confidence and an eased cockiness. "Soon enough."

_Stop calling me that!_ Is what I want to say but it comes out as a less than impressive squeak.

And now I can't help the pang of dread that slithers through my blood and the situation feels much more ominous than it did before.

My body shifts uncomfortably, trapped between the horrible pain of the wall and the snarky remarks of Draco Malfoy.

I try to jolt myself away from him again, only to achieve nothing but a cruel chuckle aimed at my struggle.

"Granger, Granger... I know you're smart enough to realise that you can't get away from me."

His words sting as much as the nails biting into my skin.

But I won't show him how much he affects me. _I won't, I won't!_

I bite down onto my bottom lip so hard I think it's bleeding, as his voice comes out in sinister tones. "Not even after I've let you go. You won't be getting too far away from me. Ever."

I stand-stock still. Frozen, as if the air has dropped around me and I can't move or speak or anything.

_Deep breaths, Hermione. Deep breaths._

But why is he saying this? Why is he doing this to me?

I know that I'm nothing more than a Mudblood to him and he hates me, but he's never done anything like this to me before!

_Oh God, oh God!_

I want him to let me go so I can just go to bed and hopefully pretend that this never happened.

_Yes, like that will happen now._

"W-what do you want, Malfoy?" My voice falters in the darkness. I still see nothing but that's probably for the best. I can only imagine the smirk that's plastered on his pale face at this moment...

"What do I want?" he asks, and then repeats in a hiss. _"What do I want?"_

He slams me against the wall, my head letting out a sickening crunch as it's propelled into the rough surface.

_"You,"_ He growls and it sounds almost inhuman. I feel flecks of warm spittle land on my cheeks. "_You_ took my father away from me, Mudblood!"

_M-me?_

"You think you're doing all the right things when really you're doing all the wrong things for me."

I don't understand what he means...

He clings to my robes and shakes me dizzy, my eyes rolling backwards into my head. I feel nauseous and lightheaded.

And suddenly the lights are back on, bursting into a shower of bright light painfully before my eyes.

It doesn't help the fatigue.

My eyes are cast downwards. I can see the hems of both of our robes. It doesn't escape my notice how mine seem to be shaking visibly.

I look up.

Draco Malfoy looks positively exhausted. His pale blond hair shines in his wand light, but it's messy and dirty and so unlike how he'd usually keep it. Two dark rings of black adorn his eyes, looking somewhere between two blows to his face and many restless nights.

His pale grey eyes narrow condescendingly into my brown ones.

"Did you ever stop to think about the consequences of your actions that night? The night that my father was taken from me and my mother?"

I know where he's going with this because I've gone there so many times before.

If Harry had never left the castle then Sirius wouldn't have died, the Order wouldn't have risked their lives for the sake of six clumsy teenagers, I wouldn't have been cursed and almost died, Harry wouldn't have been possessed by Voldemort…

The list is infinite. So many 'ifs' and 'buts' that it's almost unbelievable to think that we ever did go to the Department of Mysteries that terrible night.

If we hadn't of gone then everything would be better...

My heart twists with quilt and I feel as though I'm the cause of so many more people's suffering, even though I know I'm not.

"You have no idea how much you've fucked my life up, Granger, but you _will_ pay for it."

Unseen panic is swooping down on me like a vulture, claiming my body and all I can see is the furiously alabaster face of Draco Malfoy.

I'm going to be sick, I know it.

Please go away.

His grip finally ceases on me and he takes a few almost unheard steps backwards.

My weight buckles under my legs which feel as though they've been jinxed with Jelly Legs. I slip down to the floor like a leaf on its way to the frozen winter ground. On its way to death.

_"Nox."_

The light is sucked from my eyes again, making the scramble for my wand infinitely harder.

"Sleep tight, little Mudblood." It's a whisper, almost caring.

By the time my wand is back in my hand, he's gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading (:<strong>


End file.
